


Sweet Valentine

by CatherineMorgenstern



Series: Valentine's Day [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:12:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineMorgenstern/pseuds/CatherineMorgenstern
Summary: Ginevra and Harry are about to find out what the Dark Lord's version of celebrating Valentine's Day looks like.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not kidding. Graphic torture scene. Do not read, if that upsets your delicate sensibilities. You’ve been warned.
> 
> A huge thank you to my fabulous beta, [Heeley](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Heeley/pseuds/Heeley), for givng endless encouragement and support.
> 
> That being said: Happy Reading :)

The first thing she noticed, as her senses slowly awakened, was the feeling of a weight crushing her chest.

Her eyelids felt heavy, but when she finally managed to lift them, the soft light from countless candles stung her sensitive eyes. Blinking a few times, her gaze settled on emerald-green orbs that she knew all too well. The startling realisation that Harry Potter’s eyes were filled with panic made adrenaline rush through her and caused her to instinctively try to jump off whatever surface she was lying on, only to find that she couldn’t move. At all. 

Cold, high-pitched laughter permeated the room. It seemed to bounce off the walls and caused her stomach to drop.

She was now able to identify that feeling that seemed to make her heart constrict - dark magic suffused the space, so thick that it felt like a physical manifestation; oppressing and suffocating everything in the vicinity. Under normal circumstances instant goosebumps would’ve erupted on her skin, but whatever spell she was under seemed to prohibit even that. Her eyes were the only part of her body she had any control over. Taking in as much of the room as possible, she saw a roaring fireplace and nondescript cream-coloured walls that seemed oddly romantic in combination with the myriad of candles strewn throughout. As she looked back towards Harry and as far down between them as possible, she realised that they were lying on what had to be a bed. None of this gave her any clue as to where exactly they were. She didn’t recognise any of this.

A low hissing could be heard and a second later, she watched Nagini slither out of the shadows and up between herself and Harry. The giant snake’s diamond-shaped scales glinted in the candlelight.

“How nice of you to join us, Ginevra,” the voice whispered, oddly intimate, as a feeling of dread raced down her spine. She knew that voice. Of course she knew that voice. Even though she’d only ever interacted with the charming, young version, she’d heard Harry describe it so many times that there was no doubt in her mind as to whom it belonged to. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw black robes enter her vision. She was almost too afraid to lift her gaze high enough to confirm what she already knew, but Gin summoned every last ounce of her Gryffindor courage and allowed her eyes to wander upwards.

Still partly shrouded in shadows, her gaze was met with thin, bloodless lips that were contorted in a cruel smirk, followed by a flat nose with slitted nostrils that immediately reminded her of the snake lying next to her. Eyes the colour of fresh blood surrounded by skin as pale as ivory that was too smooth to be considered human formed a caricature of a man that seemed to have crawled straight out of a nightmare. Given his colouring, a vision of blood-drenched snow came to mind - unnatural and vulgar in its intense clash of colours; a fitting metaphor for the being now standing behind her boyfriend since he, too, seemed to taint everything pure he touched.

It’s been five years since she’d been possessed by that cursed diary and though she pretended to be fine, she still had nightmares filled with Tom’s voice, whispering dark seductions into her ear, guiding her hand and making her do unspeakable things. But even worse was that, every once in awhile, she missed him. He’d been her friend, her only confidant for a whole year and she’d confided everything in him. That notion, more than anything, made her feel dirty. True, she had come out the other side while his supposedly indestructible horcrux had been defeated and the experience had made her stronger, no doubt, but it had also darkened her soul forever. She now knew that everyone had a dark side and hers had been coaxed that much closer to the surface, making her vindictive and wrathful.

Meeting his gaze, she wanted to raise her chin in defiance, even though the amusement dancing in those soulless eyes made her sick to her stomach.

In that moment, she knew she was going to die tonight.

“I have something very special planned for you. Something fitting for the Boy-Who-Lived and his blood-traitor of a girlfriend. Something that will show the world, once and for all, that a mere child is no match for Lord Voldemort. I’ll even honour that ridiculous Valentine’s Day tradition. You should thank me, I’ll immortalise your insipid love story.” He’d spat that last word with so much venom that even Nagini recoiled, startled by the sudden spike in viciousness of her master’s emotions.

The Dark Lord seemed to muse something for a moment, twirling his infamous wand in his hand and walking back towards the foot of the bed before stepping out of her line of sight. The gesture was so Tom that it elicited a sharp flash of pain from Gin’s heart. She could hear the rustling of his robes from behind her and her heart started pounding frantically as the most basic fight or flight instinct kicked into high gear. With the blood rushing in her ears, she almost missed his next words.

“Bellatrix sends her best wishes, Harry. She was kind enough to let me borrow a very special blade for tonight, even though she regrets not defeating you herself in the Department of Mysteries. It’s a remarkable piece of craftsmanship, really. You see, this blade has been infused with such dark magic that it not only leaves permanent, incurable scars, but is also sharp enough to cut through any material, if wielded with enough force,” he said light-heartedly. “Now, who wants to go first? Any volunteers?”

He chuckled menacingly before answering his own question. “I think Ladies first, it’s only proper. But don’t worry, dear Ginevra, I’ll wait with the final step until you had the opportunity to witness my craft on Harry. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of such a privilege.”

Her eyes were fastened on Harry’s and so she witnessed the sheer despair that clouded his eyes as he took in whatever kind of blade the Dark Lord was holding. Maybe it was the effect of the immobilising spell, but she felt curiously calm, even though she knew something horrific was about to unfold.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

A blinding pain raced through Gin’s nerves as the tip of the blade started slicing through her skin from the hollow of her throat down to her navel. If she could’ve moved she would’ve been thrashing wildly, but being held immobile somehow made the pain even worse. There was no way to alleviate or escape this torture. Making eye contact with Harry, she saw desperation, fear and hatred war with each other in his gaze.

If she’d thought the pain was bad before, what came next made her sight flash white. She felt the Dark Lord put more pressure on the blade before it began to sever the bones of her sternum. It was unlike anything she could’ve ever imagined and she prayed for it to stop. No living being should have to experience such agony. The Dark Lord wielded the blade with utter care and a sort of levity that blew her mind - as though he was slicing through butter instead of a human being’s sternum. She wasn’t sure what was worse; the blazing pain or the sounds. Gin could hear the cracking of her bones as they gave way under the cursed blade. It was a vomit-inducing, hellish sound. She was almost glad that she wouldn’t survive this night as she was sure that sound would haunt her for the rest of her life otherwise.

When he lifted the weapon, she wanted to weep with joy, even though the pain was so raw and unbearable that dark spots had begun to dance in her vision. She should have known that he wasn’t done with her yet.

Lord Voldemort let out a pleased hiss at the sight of her blood streaking down on either side of her torso, staining the bed beneath her and Harry. It looked delectable against her porcelain skin and she could just make out Nagini lapping at it.

“Let’s see what a Gryffindor’s heart looks like, shall we?”

Harry’s eyes widened as he watched the Dark Lord perform _Wingardium Leviosa_ non-verbally on his girlfriend. Such a simple, innocent charm shouldn’t be used for something as horrible as this. The severed parts of Ginny’s rib cage were being levitated, so that they looked like a bizarre set of wings that laid her inside’s bare. Her skin was getting paler and paler; he could see the blue veins standing out in stark contrast as more and more blood pooled beneath the both of them.

Gin almost fainted as she felt her chest being opened, but a non-verbal _Ennervate_ made sure she wouldn’t be able to escape this nightmare that easily. If the sounds had been ghastly before, they were no comparison to the slick sound of flesh being stretched and arranged in a way that should have been impossible. At the lower edge of her vision, she could see the two bloody parts standing up on either side of her.

“Turns out a Gryffindor’s heart looks like any other. How disappointing. But I do have to admit you look more beautiful now than you ever did before, dear Ginevra. Are you ready to witness Harry’s turn?”

The blood loss made the edges of her vision go black, but she knew there was no escape; he’d just drag her back into consciousness should she faint. As the Dark Lord reappeared in her line of sight with bloody blade in hand, he had the audacity to wink at her before he came to a stop behind Harry and started his gruesome work all over again.

If possible, seeing what had been done to her mirrored on Harry was even worse. Though her mind was but a sliver away from tipping over the edge into insanity, she forced herself to focus on her lover. Harry had held eye contact with her throughout the whole ordeal and she owed him the same. She would not leave him to suffer through this alone. He deserved so much better than this.

She wished she could tell him how much she loved him. 

In a way, she was glad they’d meet their end together. She would’ve never been able to bear living in a world where Harry was no more.

Though she couldn’t help but watch Lord Voldemort as well. His face was suffused with sadistic glee and unfathomable pleasure. His dark aura seemed to pulse against her skin and she was sure that no one had ever seen the Dark Lord so unguarded before. There was a beauty in this monster of a man - terrible and paralysing in his might, but majestic nonetheless.

Minutes felt like hours while she focused on Harry’s eyes - eyes that were the colour of home and love and loyalty - until, finally, his torso was opened exactly like hers.

She knew without a shadow of a doubt that they weren’t through yet. The sweet oblivion of death’s embrace was still out of reach and she wondered what else was in store for them. Judging by the manic glint in the blood-red eyes in front of her, the worst was yet to come.

“And now for the grand finale,” he murmured as he lowered the blade back into her lover’s opened chest. A prolonged squelching sound could be heard as she watched Harry’s eyes widen in inconceivable torment before the light in his eyes faded.

She wanted to scream, but even that was impossible. She wanted to claw that man’s eyes out and feed them to him for putting Harry through that kind of pain. Helpless, she had to witness Lord Voldemort lifting Harry’s beating heart out of his chest.

“It is beautiful in a way, is it not, Ginevra? Even if it’s the heart of a filthy half-blood.”

He placed the heart into a heart-shaped box, weirdly enough. His hands were drenched in sticky, red blood and he looked at them with an odd expression before meeting her gaze again and smirked. Keeping the eye contact, Lord Voldemort brought his hand to his mouth and licked his enemy’s blood off his fingers. It was such an intimate and sacrilegious act that it felt more offensive than anything he’d done before.

Shortly after he’d walked out of sight, her head was being turned towards the other side of the room; towards him. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, blood-stained lips settled on hers in a mockery of a kiss.

Ginevra Weasley tasted the coppery tang of her lover’s blood before the Dark Lord carved out her heart also.

-OOOOOOOOO-

It was the evening of Valentine’s Day that found Molly and Arthur Weasley having dinner that was suddenly disturbed when a loud pop sounded and a house elf dressed as cupid appeared in the middle of the Burrow’s kitchen. They were startled and, considering what times they lived in, instantly on guard. They’d drawn their wands, but lowered them in the next second when they saw that the little thing was dressed as cupid; with wings as well as bow and arrow. Molly giggled, convinced that Arthur must’ve arranged this, when the house elf began to recite a poem in a high voice:

 _I took an ordinary box_  
_As empty as can be_  
_I filled it with a special gift_  
_And wrapped it carefully_

 _Whenever you are lonely_  
_Or even feeling blue_  
_You only have to look at this gift_  
_And know I think of you._

_Just hold it tightly near your heart_  
_Because it holds my love inside._

Clapping her hands together in excitement, Molly failed to see the confusion on her husband’s face that indicated he didn’t have anything to do with this. 

A fancy-looking, heart-shaped box was levitated towards them before it landed on their kitchen table. Their cupid gave a bow and disappeared.

Molly felt as giddy as a schoolgirl as she bounced towards the gift and tore off the bright pink ribbon to open it.

A blood-curling scream filled the Burrow in the next second as Molly looked at what was nestled inside before she fainted right there.

Alarmed, Arthur jumped towards the table, wand back out, to see two bloody human hearts contained inside. Two locks of hair were lying above them; one long, ginger strand and one wiry, raven curl.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Jilliane Hoffman's novel "Retribution"  
> The author of the poem I adapted for this story's puproses is unknown. But check out my [Tumblr](https://lascitateognesperanza.tumblr.com/), if you'd like to access the link to the site where I found different versions of it.


End file.
